


The Morning After

by sleep



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:22:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3840361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleep/pseuds/sleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens the day after Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, and Drift get drunk during a drinking-game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow-up fic to 'Truth or Dare'. It took far longer than it should have to write. And it is probably not even what anyone wanted. Sorry.  
> Either way, I hope you enjoy it.  
> Cycle: Hour.  
> Klik: Minute.  
> Nano-klik: Second.

Drift awoke. The floor was cold, his head pounded, and his joints were stiff. Wait, what? Floor?? What were he doing on the floor? Or for that's sake, which floor was this even?  
  
He jolted to a sitting position, opened his optics – the dim light in the room burned – and surveyed his surroundings. He was not on his ship, Ratchet was not there, and- And there, almost within kicking-distance, lay Rodimus.  
  
The previous day came rushing back to him – arriving at the Lost Light, Ratchet leaving him to go talk to Rodimus – and then the previous _night_ came back to him. Yes, that would absolutely explain his presence on the floor, and why his head was pounding. He looked around, to see if Ultra Magnus – or rather Minimus Ambus – was there. The quick search led him to the conclusion that Minimus Ambus – and his two armours – was gone.  
  
Drift checked his internal monitor. A couple notices came up – presumably the usual set of warnings and status-updates that a night of FIM-chip-less drinking would lead to – but he put them away for the time being. Checking his chronometer, it was early in the day-cycle aboard the Lost Light, but it was not unreasonable to assume that Ultra Magnus would have some duties to attend to, even at this hour. That was a good enough hypothesis to explain his absence for now, so Drift went back to assessing his current situation.  
  
Drift took a hold of the table, and pushed himself into a standing position, making the blanket fall off him. Drift took a double-take. Blanket? And verily, when he looked down at the ground next to him, there was a blanket that apparently had been lying on top of him until just then.  
  
Walking over to Rodimus, he discovered that he, too, had a blanket on top of him. They were both Rodimus-themed – red and gold with flames – so it was no wonder it had went undetected when he at first had glanced over at Rodimus. Walking over to one of the cupboards in the habsuit answered the question of where the blankets had come from, and a peak into the trash-bin in the corner showed where the remains of the empty engex-bottle – it must have broke when he passed out _standing_ – had ended up. Weird. Did Ultra Magnus do all of that before leaving...?  
  
Brushing the question away, he checked his internal monitor again, actually reading the notifications this time. They were as he had expected, except... There was also a message from Ratchet. “Meet me in the medbay when you have time.” It was sent a cycle ago. Drift looked around. Well, Rodimus was out cold – and presumably had no duties this early – so there was no real reason to stick around. He folded the blanket, wrote a message on a datapad – “With Ratchet in the medbay.” – and left it next to Rodimus' recharging form, and then he was on his way.  
  
–  
  
The quiet 'snkt' of the doors to the medbay opening caught Ratchet's attention. “Oh, Drift. You're up early.” Ratchet returned to counting medical supplies – they would have to restock at the nearest port – and Drift lingered at the entrance. After a few kliks of silence – broken only by the occasional sound of Ratchet rummaging through a drawer here or there – Ratchet finally put away the datapad he was taking notes on, and turned his attention to Drift.  
  
“How did yesterday go?”  
  
The question echoed and then faded into the mostly empty medbay, and Drift decided to move closer before answering. “It went... As good as can be expected, I guess?” Ratchet raised an optical ridge, but refrained from pushing it any further. Drift interjected “How are things around here? It's rather...” Drift inspected his surroundings, looking for what felt off, “Quiet.”  
  
It was. And empty. Even on the most event-less of days, there were the usual accidents and mishaps, yet the medbay was almost deserted. Not even... “Where's First Aid?” Inquired Drift, suddenly realising that he had yet to see him, in the medbay or anywhere else.  
  
“Oh, he's probably around here somewhere. But he's not doing well. Not after... Not after Luna 1.” Drift gathered that that mostly meant Ambulon and Pharma.  
  
“Oh.” More silence followed, and Ratchet moved some more tools to their correct locations.  
  
The silence soon became unbearable. “Why did you ask me to come here?” Ratchet raised his optics again, and barked out a laugh, making Drift realize that his face has contorted itself into a worried grimace. Drift reset his face to a more neutral blank state, and Ratchet put away the last supplies.  
  
“You have gone without proper medical attention since you left the Lost Light, right?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Well, I though this would be a good time to do a check-up. You look like you have gone through a grinder.” Drift knew it was true. He had cleaned up to look more presentable last night, but he was still scuffed and worn out. “Okay, come sit.” Ratchet patted the medical berth next to him, and Drift sat down.  
  
It was incredible to watch Ratchet work; plating got smoothed out, stiff joints – he only now realized how much flexibility he had lost in his time away – became pliable again, faulty systems worked properly again, and each task was done in a flash. Watching Ratchet work was as incredible now as it always had been. Ratchet was finished before Drift had time to get bored, and he was then ordered to get up of the berth again.  
  
He only had time to swing his legs off of the berth before they were interrupted by the doors opening, and a flash of gold and yellow came racing into the medbay. The bolt screeched to a halt, stood and blinked in the lights for a nano-klik before regaining its posture, and then stood still in the bright medbay lights for another few nano-kliks before talking.  
  
“Is anything wrong? You left a note saying you were going to the medbay?” Rodimus looked a bit lost, as if he had expected something more grand – or chaotic – than the serene medbay. He stared from Drift – seemingly in excellent shape – to Ratchet – apparently trying to commit murder with his glare – and took in the situation.  
  
“Oh. You were just- You were just talking? Nothing is wrong?” “Rodimus straightened. “What are you talking about, anyway?” He had just enough time to plaster a – hopefully – disarming smile on his face, before Ratchet answered.  
  
“Well, before _someone_ rudely interrupted me, I was just doing maintenance on Drift here.” Drift made a frantic – and futile – attempt to be kept out of the argument, which only drew more attention to him.  
  
Drift stared sheepishly at Rodimus, who after a moment managed to return to his usual smiling state. “Oh, okay! Well, that's great! Sorry to have bothered. I will leave you two to it.” Rodimus lightly patted Drift's shoulder, and flashed an extra bright grin to Ratchet. He then stepped back, and turned to leave. When he got to the door, he turned, and shouted across the medbay “Don't be a stranger, Drift!” The door closed behind him, and silence fell again.  
  
Ratchet sighed. “Well, you're all good to go for now, kid. Come back in a day or two for a check-up. And if anything feels wrong, or off, just come by anytime.” Ratchet's frown turned to a smile. “And otherwise, you're always welcome to come by for a chat or drink when I'm off-duty.”  
  
Drift smiled back at him. “That sounds nice.”  
  
–  
  
Rodimus was happy. The last night had gone well, and everything was good this morning. He felt fine, Drift was doing fine, and Ultra Magnus... Well, Ultra Magnus had disappeared during the night, but he had really opened up the last night, so surely nothing was wrong.  
  
Speaking of Ultra Magnus... As Rodimus was heading to his office, he saw his big frame moving through the corridor. “Good morning, Magnus!” Greeted Rodimus cheerily.  
  
“Oh. Good morning, captain. I left this morning's reports in your inbox.” Ultra Magnus politely nodded towards Rodimus' office, before hurrying away, and Rodimus' spark fell in his chest.  
  
That... Was not a good sign. Was Ultra Magnus angry about the previous night? But everything had gone so well! He was about to call out after him, but Ultra Magnus had just turned a corner, and Rodimus thought better of running after him. There was probably something important he had to attend to. Instead, he finished his journey to his office, and sat down to look through the pads left there while he was gone.  
  
The stack was... Tall. Apparently, Ultra Magnus was not the only one who had left him reports. He picked up the top pad. “Well, may as well get this over with,” He sighed, and dove into his work.  
  
–  
  
Drift left the medbay with a datapad in his hand. Ratchet had given it to him, saying he “might like it”. He had not elaborated any more when Drift had asked about it. Drift turned it on, and started reading while walking. It was... poetry?  
  
He was just about to sit down on his temporary berth in the temporary room they had temporarily found for him, when he got another ping. He sighed. No rest for the wicked, huh... It said that he was needed at the bridge, so he put away the datapad, and got going.  
  
He was in a part of the ship he was unused to, but he knew how to navigate the corridors in big ships. And he had just gotten there, so the path was fresh in his mind. Left, right, straight ahead, right... Ultra Magnus' big form doing a 180 turn and hurriedly disappearing behind a corner... Drift had no time to ponder the meaning of it, instead running into Rodimus, on his way _away_ from the bridge.  
  
“Hey Drift!” Drift's processor quickly processed the data – a ping to the bridge, Ultra Magnus elsewhere, Rodimus leaving – and his spark sank in his chest. Oh.  
  
“Hey Rodimus.” He forced a smile onto his faceplate.  
  
Rodimus returned the smile, and asked, “You here to see me?”  
  
“Err, no.”  
  
Rodimus' smile remained in place for another few nano-kliks, before the meaning of the answer sank in. Anger, worry, and indignation battled to replace the smile, but after a few moments they all gave way for a resigned frown. “Well, I'm supposed to be going to the shuttle bay. I got a ping...” He trailed off. “Good luck?” It sounded more like an apology than anything else.  
  
Drift muttered a “Thank you” before passing Rodimus, and entering the bridge. He was probably going to need it.  
  
Rodimus remained frozen in place until the door to the bridge had closed completely, when he briskly started making way for the shuttle bay.  
  
–  
  
That... Could have been worse. A lot worse. The conversation had been curt from both sides, and it had basically boiled down to the both of them agreeing to act civil around each other. Even now, after seeing Megatron there, aboard the Lost Light, wearing an Autobot emblem – _Bumblebee's_ – he had a hard time believing it. He did not want to just outright deny Megatron's claims of reforming – Primus knew he himself had needed more second chances than most – but it was still... It was still hard to believe, and even harder to accept.  
  
Drift was deep in thoughts, and walked a path informed by habit rather than observance of his surroundings, leaving him completely unprepared when he turned a corner, and walked straight into someone coming the other way.  
  
It took him a moment to realize that it was Ultra Magnus. The tall mech had dropped a couple datapads in the collision, and was currently apologizing for being careless. Drift scoffed at himself; if anything, he was the one who had been careless. He apologized too, and helped Ultra Magnus pick up the datapads. When it came to the last one, they both reached out for it, and their hands remained frozen in place for a few nano-kliks, before Ultra Magnus retrieved the datapad, thanked him and excused himself, quickly disappearing down the corridor.  
  
Drift was left alone in the hallway, staring after Ultra Magnus' retreating form. They had never gotten all that well along, but their animosity had usually manifested itself in arguing – usually about what Rodimus should do – and it was not like Ultra Magnus ever had exactly _hid_ his general dislike of the ex-con. It was a bit odd. Had he angered Ultra Magnus? Was Ultra Magnus _avoiding_ him? The thought was preposterous. If something was wrong, then surely the message would have been delivered to him loud and clear. He shook his head and kept walking down the corridor.  
  


–  
  
Ultra Magnus was avoiding him. There was simply no getting around the fact. Drift kept seeing him disappear around a corner, or through a door, and he kept excusing himself whenever Drift tried to talk to him. It was very unlike the enforcer- _former_ enforcer – Drift was still not used to _not_ thinking about Ultra Magnus as the “duly appointed enforcer of the Tyrest Accord” – and Drift was not really sure what to do. They had gotten along well enough last night – or at least Drift had _thought_ they had gotten along well enough – and since Ultra Magnus was the second in command, and Drift was friends with Rodimus, they would have to be around each other.  
  
Speaking of Rodimus: The scarlet speedster came jogging towards him, a smile planted on his face. “Hey Drift! How did it go?”  
  
“Oh, about as well as expected.”  
  
Rodimus' expression twisted into a frown, and he looked Drift up and down. “You don't _look_ like anything terrible happened.” Rodimus had apparently been worried about him. At least that had not changed. It made Drift's mood rise a bit.  
  
“Rodimus, I'm fine. Nothing special happened.”  
  
“Oh! That's good!” Rodimus instantly went back to beaming. “So! Is there anything you would like to do at the moment? My break starts in a few kliks.”  
  
They started walking down the corridor together. “Actually, there is something I wanted to talk to you about...”  
  
–  
  
Ultra Magnus checked his messages again, and the most recent one – received but a few kliks ago – flashed up for him. “ Come to my office as soon as it is convenient. Signed, Rodimus, co-captain of the Lost Light.” It was... exceedingly official for Rodimus. There really was no way of avoiding this one. Not that he was avoiding anyone! He just... He sighed. He could not even fool himself.  
  
He knocked on the door, and it opened, letting him enter. Rodimus' office was about the same as it used to; Desk, chair, a couple ornaments... The door silently closed behind him as he found himself cemented to the floor, staring at the shape standing idly by the desk, looking at the carvings Rodimus had left there. “Drift?”  
  
Drift immediately looked up, meeting his optics. He spoke quietly. “Hey Magnus.” He was leaning uncertainly against the desk, his optics searching Ultra Magnus' face, as if looking for something.  
  
Ultra Magnus diverted his gaze from Drift, and stared at the empty chair behind the desk. “Where is Rodimus?”  
  
“He... I think he said he was heading to Swerve's bar, the last time I saw him.” Typical of Rodimus; he called Ultra Magnus to his office, and then flippantly left to do something else.  
  
Ultra Magnus sighed. “Well, I better go meet him there, then.” He turned to leave.  
  
“Magnus, wait!” Drift was by his side in an instant, a hand grabbing Ultra Magnus' wrist, turning him back towards Drift.  
  
“Drift, what is the meaning of this!” Drift was smaller, weaker, but he was also more agile, and he had his swords. If this was about to turn nasty...  
  
But Drift was searching his face again, not making any moves to do anything – good or bad – and eventually he sighed, and let his head fall forwards, staring intensely at his pedes. “Please don't leave.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Perhaps his tone had been too cold, perhaps his reply had been to quick. Either way, Drift's shoulder slumped, and he mumbled to the floor. “You have been avoiding me.” Ultra Magnus was about to protest, but Drift kept going. “I thought perhaps things would be different between us, after all that has happened, after yesterday, and I...” He let go of his wrist. “I wanted to talk to you. Rodimus let me borrow his office, and sent that message for me.”  
  
“So, you _lied_ to get me here.” Ultra Magnus' face twisted into a stern frown.  
  
“That wasn't-”  
  
“You tricked me, and for what?” Drift raised his head again, and stared at Ultra Magnus with frustration and desperation. “You should have just told the truth. This-”  
  
“And would you have come then?? If I asked you to come talk to me? Privately?”  
  
Ultra Magnus stuttered. _Would_ he have come? “I...”  
  
Drift was staring defiantly at him. “Well?”  
  
“I don't know.” Admitted Ultra Magnus, surprising himself. A silence fell, with both of them avoiding the other's optics.  
  
–  
  
Rodimus walked past his own office. It just happened to be on his way, he told himself. He was not walking past it for any special reason. Yet he found himself stopping outside the door, straining his audio sensors for sounds. There were none. That was probably a bad sign. Should he-  
  
He stopped his hand, hovering right next to the door, about to knock. No. Whatever was going on in there, he should probably let it be. They did not need him intervening.  
  
He kept walking, slowly distancing himself from the two mechs currently in his office, a worried frown twisting his face.  
  
–  
  
Ultra Magnus sighed, walked past Drift, and over to the desk, waiting there. “Well, I'm all yours. What did you want to talk to me about?”  
  
Drift peaked up, and followed him to the desk. He cleared his throat, and plunged into a – most likely rehearsed – speech. “I know we've never gotten all that well along, and we were only together on the Lost Light for a short time, but we both had our... Roles, and we managed well enough. Things have changed while I was gone. Yesterday, I thought perhaps that it changed to the better, but now you are avoiding me, and I'm not sure what our roles are any more, and where we stand compared to each other any more. If I have insulted or embarrassed you, or in some other way have made our... relationship strained, I want you to tell me that. I'm not sure how I feel about you, but I don't want us to go back to being strangers who only tolerate each other.” Drift hesitated for a moment. “And I don't think Rodimus wants that either.”  
  
Drift stared expectantly at Ultra Magnus, who was standing stunned. “Magnus?” Drift tried, and Ultra Magnus snapped out of his daze, fixing his optics with Drift's.  
  
“After Luna 1... Yes, you are right. Things changed. And I think I changed, and meeting you again made me realize just how different things are now, from how they were just a few years ago.” Ultra Magnus was speaking slowly, trying each word out before pronouncing it. “And yesterday... Yesterday I let my guard down more than I have done in millions of years, among two of the least likely mechs available, and afterwards... I found that I didn't actually mind that. That you had been the mechs. And while we have our differences, we also have... More things in common than I at first realized.”  
  
They stood in a calm silence for a klik, both soaking in what the other had said. Drift eventually spoke again, breaking the silence. “And why have you been avoiding me?”  
  
“I, um.” Ultra Magnus broke the optic-contact, and stared down at his feet. “Some of the things I did when overcharged were rather embarrassing. And I wasn't really prepared to be reminded of them.”  
  
“Oh.” Drift turned to face the window, and stared at the stars and planets drifting past them. “So you don't, uh, hate me?” There was a trace of hope in Drift's voice.  
  
Ultra Magnus turned to look outside too. He found that the answer came to him naturally, “No.”  
  
They stood there, staring outside in silence, for a while. Drift cleared his throat again. “So, about yesterday...”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Drift idly scratched his cheek. “Is the whole, um, Minimus Ambus thing private? Would you rather it not be talked about?” After another long stretch of silence, Drift started talking again, just to fill the silence. “I mean, I can sort of relate to that. Leaving the past behind. That's not who you are any more, and all.”  
  
Ultra Magnus remained silent for another few kliks, before finally replying. “It _is_ private. And I would rather not it be talked about among the crew. Or with the crew.”  
  
Drift nodded. “Okay.”  
  
Ultra Magnus continued, hesitantly. “But that doesn't mean that I never want to... Acknowledge that part of me. In private.” Drift nodded again.  
  
They stood in silence again, just watching the stars, before Ultra Magnus turned to leave. “I have duties to attend to.” As he was reaching the door, he turned around to look at Drift. “And I guess we should talk to Rodimus, too. About...” He was not even sure what exactly it was they should talk about. “We should probably talk to Rodimus.” Drift nodded again.  
  
–  
  
The rest of the day went by pretty uneventfully – if you ignore the usual chaotic events that come with living on the Lost Light, of course – to Ultra Magnus' relief. So when his duties were finished for the day, there was nothing stopping him from meeting up at Rodimus' quarters, as they had arranged. After checking that everything was in order and nothing was left unfinished – for the third time – he finally admitted defeat and stopped stalling. It was not so much that he did not _want_ to go to the meeting – not that it even actually was a _meeting_ , it was more of a 'gathering among friends', as Drift had called it – but he was nervous for its outcome. He was unsure what they were even trying to accomplish, but he had a sinking feeling that he would somehow mess it up.  
  
He nonetheless eventually left his office, and made his way towards Rodimus' quarters. The sounds of the crew were distant, and his footsteps echoed in the empty hall. He was relieved when he bumped into Drift, who was reading a datapad. “Hello Drift.”  
  
Drift looked up from the 'pad, and smiled. “Hey Magnus.”  
  
Ultra Magnus returned the smile – a habit he was getting into – and asked. “What are you reading?”  
  
“Some poetry that Ratchet lent me, from before the war. Some of it is quite good.”  
  
The trip after that went by quickly – and rather pleasantly – with Drift talking and showing, and Ultra Magnus listening. They got to Rodimus' quarters in no time, which was when Drift subspaced the datapad, and knocked on the door.  
  
“Come in!”  
  
The door opened, revealing the tall blue mech, and the lithe white mech. Arriving together was a good sign, decided Rodimus. They exchanged pleasantries, and Rodimus ushered them in. He had prepared some cubes for them – regular energon this time – and they all sat down around the table.  
  
Rodimus smiled, Drift sat with his hands folded in his lap, and Ultra Magnus was staring at the small tower of cubes.  
  
After half a klik of silence, Rodimus asked, “You hungry, Magnus?”  
  
Ultra Magnus startled, and stared at Rodimus instead. “I. Um. I guess?” When he thought about it, it _had_ been a while since his last meal. Rodimus handed the others a cube each, and starting drinking one on his own, prompting the others follow suit. They sat there drinking without talking for a while.  
  
The cubes were drained quickly, and the silence that fell felt heavy. No time as the present, supposed Rodimus. “So, I called you here today” not that he had been the one to suggest the meeting “because I wanted to discuss... Well, us.” Drift and Ultra Magnus both faced him, silently encouraging him to continue. He cleared his throat. This felt unreasonably official.  
  
Rodimus turned to Drift before he continued. “Drift, I've missed you. And while of course you have been great Magnus, I've missed our... trio.” That was maybe not the best word for what he wanted to say. Rodimus tried again. “I've missed us being together, as an unit.” He was not really sure if that was any better. Rodimus stared at their faces, trying to gauge their reactions, and contemplating what to say next.  
  
When Rodimus took too long to continue, Ultra Magnus asked, “Rodimus, what are you getting at? We're all here. If there's something you want to say, say it.”  
  
Rodimus was not sure if Ultra Magnus really was unaware of what he was getting at, or if he just wanted Rodimus to actually say it out loud. But saying something and having either of them decline would be worse than keeping quiet about it. And how was he even supposed to go about this! What he had in mind was not the most usual of arrangements. And they were not the most usual of mechs. None of them.  
  
Rodimus sighed. Well, it was all or nothing now. He could probably be happy with just one of them, but that was not what he wanted. And he did not want them to both individually just be with him. “Give me your hands.” A moment of confusion passed, but they did as he asked.  
  
He took a hold of one of each of their hands, put them together in his palms, and spoke. “I would like for us to be together. _Properly._ All of us.” There was no going back now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There will most likely be a follow-up fic this time too. Cliffhanger and all. It is best if you have no expectations about it coming any time soon, though.


End file.
